


Highlights from SGCC 3015

by MaryPSue



Series: Reincarnation Blues [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence, Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Beale is invited to host a panel at Santa Grenda ComicCon, and the con will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highlights from SGCC 3015

@alcor-has-the-tardis asked @definitelymizar: omg I just saw this year’s SGCC lineup and it says Ian’s gonna be there???!!! that’s so awesome!!! will you be going with him?

@definitelymizar replied: You couldn’t keep me away! Ian’s so excited I think his oversized head may actually explode all over the living room one of these days. (Seriously, though, he’s really proud, and we’re all really proud of him. We all knew that Mizar the Magnificent was going to be good, but to see all of you guys loving it as much as Ian and the team and I do has been amazing, and Ian getting invited to do a panel at Santa Grenda ComicCon is so much more than either of us ever expected. I’m getting a little teary just thinking about it. Hang on, gotta go blow my nose…)

Make sure you get your tickets early if you want to come see us, though, SGCC sells out fast!

 

**Day One**

“You’re not the  _real_  Mizar.”

Mira looked down. A small blond boy looked back up at her, one hand on his hip and an unimpressed expression on his face. “Excuse me?” she asked.

The boy crossed his arms, giving her a withering look. “The  _real_  Mizar would never walk around a public place like this with her magic all out on display unless she was chasing or fighting something.” He looked Mira up and down, then turned to inspect his fingernails like she wasn’t worth any further examination. “Also you’re too old and that costume? Looks cheap.”

Mira wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be insulted. “I made this costume myself.”

The boy glanced briefly back up at her before going back to his fingernails. “Oh, so that’s why.”

Mira ground her teeth together and reminded herself that it would be wrong to hit a child.

…

@baelswife posted a picture

@baelswife: oh my stars look who I got a picture with!!!!! EVIL HIMSELF, IAN BEALE!!!! oms he’s even cooler irl he’s rly short tho??? anyway I ran into him and Mira on the way across the con floor and he was really cool and let me take a selfie with him!!!!!!!! I can die happy now

…

"IAN BEALE!”

Ian winced at the booming shout, contemplating hiding behind Mira for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, putting on a smile, and turning to face the overexcited fan running through the crowd towards them. She slid to a halt just before she would have barrelled into him, breathing hard but with an enormous grin on her face, and thrust out an arm at Ian. Her voice dropped from a shout to a more bearable volume, though still incongruously loud and deep for how small she was. “Will you sign my body?!”

Ian took another deep breath. “Hi! And you are…?”

“Clara!” the girl boomed proudly, beaming from ear to ear. “I’m a huge fan! Ugh. Bael is SO HOT. Is he ever gonna show up again? Is it gonna be next episode? Is -”

Ian cut her off with what he hoped was an apologetic smile. “Hey, I can’t give away all my secrets! Clara, I’m really sorry, but I’m just trying to enjoy the convention right now, just like you. I’ve got a signing tomorrow if you -”

The girl’s face fell instantly. “I gotta go in for surgery tomorrow!”

Ian felt the pit of his stomach fall almost as fast as the girl’s - Clara’s - face had. “What…kind of surgery?”

Clara shrugged, and for the first time, her voice approached something resembling quiet. “Brain surgery. Super lame, right?” She waved her still-outstretched arm up and down. “Please sign me! It’d be so quick! I’ve even got a marker right here!”

Ian glanced over at Mira as Clara pressed the felt pen into his hand, but though she raised both eyebrows, she didn’t say anything. Ian made a face in her direction, before turning back to Clara. “Okay. Where do you want this?”

“Wherever!" 

Ian leaned over, awkwardly gripping Clara’s arm with the hand that wasn’t holding the felt pen, and scrawled his name along her inner arm. The girl squealed at a volume that Ian hadn’t thought possible for human beings, looking over the signature reverently. "Thank you!” she exploded, before flinging herself forward, wrapping both arms around Ian’s waist and squeezing. Ian felt his back crack, and tentatively patted Clara’s shoulders, trying and failing to catch his breath and ignore Mira’s giggles. For someone so small, Clara was not only surprisingly loud, but also surprisingly strong.

Finally, Clara let go, her enormous smile even bigger and brighter than it had been before, if that was possible. “I’m going to get this permanently inked into my flesh!” she yelled excitedly, as she started to walk away from Ian and Mira, back into the crowd.

“All flesh is impermanent!” Ian called after her, and was answered with a wave.

He turned back to Mira, who had crossed both arms over her chest and was smiling knowingly, and shrugged. “You think I just got scammed.”

“I think you have a good heart,” Mira said, after a moment, twining one arm through his. “I also think that you’re gonna take me over to that booth and find out how much the Alcor body pillows are.”

 

**Day Two**

@mizars-frilly-petticoat twitted at 3:45 pm on June 10th, 3015: oms the signings just started & @_IanBeale is only wearing a towel around his waist???

@mizars-frilly-petticoat twitted at 3:46 pm on June 10th, 3015: the real #SGCC exclusive: @_IanBeale’s bare chest #amazing #BlindedByThe(Reflected)Light

…

“You stole my clothes.”

Mira barely managed to smother a laugh at the look on her boyfriend’s face, pressing one frilly lace-trimmed yellow glove to her chest and affecting a look of angelic innocence. “I was helping! I took your suitcase down to the car! I even left you something nice and formal to wear for your signings!”

The glare Ian leveled at her could have razed a mountain into dust.

“Something nice and formal,” he repeated flatly.

“I worked hard on that,” Mira said, unperturbed. “I was really hoping you’d wear it, although I can’t say I’m complaining about the view!”

Ian pulled the hotel bathtowel a little tighter around his waist and flushed.

“Was it really so bad that doing the whole thing in the nude was a better option?” Mira asked, her smile dropping. “Oh no, did something happen to it? Did the back seams tear? I wasn’t totally sure about the measurements, I was using an old shirt to go by -”

“You left me nothing to wear but a bright yellow suit and a top hat,” Ian said, still in the same flat tone of voice. “Oh, and an eyepatch. With a, and I’ll admit it is beautifully embroidered,  _bright yellow triangle_  on it.”

“I made you a Bael costume!” Mira said, doing her best to sound as enthusiastic as she’d felt when the brilliant idea had first occurred to her. “I thought it’d be fun to both dress up this time, and I knew you were excited about finally getting to reveal the character, even if nobody really knows anything about him yet -”

Ian’s right eye flickered for a moment before he squeezed both eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I…appreciate the gesture,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “but -”

“And,” Mira interrupted, lowering her voice as she took a step closer, reaching up to pull his hand away from his face and twining her fingers between his, “you’ve been getting squirrelly lately, ever since you brought him out and the fandom lost their collective mind. I thought maybe, if you could just see how silly it really is -”

Ian pulled his hand away, using it to grip the towel he still had wrapped around his waist more securely. “It’s not silly. I’m - you know where Bael came from, and it’s not a place I want to visit again in front of thousands of people at Santa Grenda ComicCon.”

Mira blew out an exasperated breath, biting back a snarky comment. Usually this was the part where Alcor, when he got like this, started to whine about how he was a monster who was unfit for human interaction and should just disappear forever, blah blah blah, and Mira would just bap him on the nose and tell him not to be such a dork and that he sounded like something out of a bad YA supernatural romance. That usually shut him up, and anywhere from five minutes to an hour later he’d be apologising and be right back to his usual endearingly annoying self. But she had to admit, Ian had a point. She’d been so excited to get him to wear the costume she’d worked so hard on and put so much love and care into that she hadn’t really thought about _where_ and _when_.

“Sorry,” she said, quietly. “But I do think you need a chance to put yourself to the test, to see that it’s not as bad as you’re worried it’s going to be.”

Ian took a deep breath, glancing up at the ceiling of the convention hall before shutting his eyes.

“It’s not going to happen again,” Mira continued, lowering her voice so that the two teenage girls in what looked like they might have been hastily thrown-together Mizar and Alcor costumes who were watching and whispering and trying (with little success) to snap pictures couldn’t overhear. “And this isn’t a sign that you’re – slipping. Sure you’re weird, and kind of creepy, and the stuff you like makes me really wonder about you sometimes, and maybe that does all come from you-know-who. But who cares? So long as you’re having fun and not hurting anybody, then it doesn’t matter. Remember? We talked about this. You can’t let it ruin everything you love.”

She reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “ _And_ you’ve already used up your mopey-brooding hours for this month on never being able to get Bael’s introduction scene right and being a talentless hack who should never have started working in animation in the first place and should go busk in maglev stations for a living until you starve and die on the street.”

The breath that Ian blew out was shaky, but surprised, and it sounded suspiciously like it was trying to turn into a laugh.

“Make you a deal,” he said, after a long moment, and Mira grinned. “I’ll wear that silly thing around the con with you, and I’ll keep it on for as long as you like, _if_ you promise to buy drinks tonight.”

“Of course, boyfriend mine,” Mira said, looping an arm through Ian’s and smiling hugely at him. 

“And fair warning, after wandering around a convention full of loud, excitable, unwashed fans, while dressed as the current fandom darling…I plan on taking an extended vacation to Margaritaville.”

“Of course, boyfriend mine,” Mira repeated, leaning heavily against Ian. He looked down at her, and she gave him her best, most winning smile.

“You’re still plotting something and I don’t like it,” Ian said, with an exaggerated stern frown that quickly cracked into a crooked grin.

“Of  _course_ , boyfriend mine,” Mira repeated, for a third time, with a glance across the hall to where Alcor was waiting to challenge ‘Bael’ to a showy stage-fight in full view of everyone.

Ian shook his head. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the evil mastermind in this relationship.”

Mira reached up, on the tips of her toes, and pressed a kiss to the very end of his nose. “Now,  _that’s_  silly. Where did you get that ridiculous idea from?“ She pressed the bundle of neatly folded yellow fabric that she’d tucked under one arm against his chest. “Now stop letting the preteens ogle your delicious man-flesh and go put some pants on.”

“Mira, ew.”

…

“I thought you meant drinks for  _you_!”

“Well, you thought wrong and you should have clarified before you made a deal,” Ian said, with a totally unsympathetic grin, before turning to the bartender. “Another round for everybody, on her!”

Mira’s hands balled into fists, before she grudgingly tore open her purse and dug through it. “You’re literally pure evil,” she muttered, slapping her credit card down on the bar.

Ian slid over to rest his chin on his hand, staring directly into her eyes with a smile that Mira recognised as fond, if teasing. “ _You_  wanted me to embrace my dark side.” 

"I didn’t mean on me!" 

"And a whiskey on the rocks for the lady, I think,” Ian called out to the bartender, before winking at Mira. “Seriously, though, you’ve lived with me for how many years now? And that dork for longer? And you still didn’t see this one coming?”

Mira glowered. Ian caved.

“Fine, just this one round.”

Mira put on her most winning smile and slid up onto the stool beside Ian’s. “And a margarita for the gentleman, please,” she called out to the bartender, who rolled his eyes and reached up for the tequila. 

 

**Day Three**

“So how’d you lose it?”

Mira tugged on Ian’s sleeve. “Babe? I think he’s talking to you.”

Ian half-turned, to face the skinny teenage boy with a superhero comics label’s logo emblazoned across his black t-shirt and a piercing stare fixed on Ian. “I’m sorry?”

The boy flipped his lank brown hair out of his face. “The  _eye_. How’d you lose it?”

“And you are…?” Ian asked, feeling a little bubble of annoyance welling up in the back of his throat.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Drake. Obviously I don’t watch  _kids’ shows_ , but your Mizar or whatever keeps showing up in the backgrounds of panelsso I looked it up and then I looked  _you_  up and I can’t find any information anywhere about _how you lost an eye_.”

“I’m sorry, how is that any of your business?” Mira started, and Ian put a hand on her arm.

“No, it’s time the truth was known.”

“ _What?”_ Mira started, but Ian ignored her, focusing on the eager, almost hungry smile on the boy’s face.

“When I was a young, aspiring animator, I was desperate to sign a contract with Gisnep. I mean, isn’t everyone? They are, after all, the only company in the world making  _kids’ shows_  that’s worth working for. But they weren’t hiring. In fact, none of the animation companies were hiring. I applied everywhere I could think of, for every position I was even remotely qualified for, but I couldn’t get anything! I couldn’t even get a position as a night janitor!” Ian paused for effect, watching the boy’s face, making sure he was still hanging on every word. “That was when I went to my professor, and he told me the terrible dark secret of Western animation.”

The look of stubborn cynicism the boy had worn was wavering, slightly, and Ian fought down the urge to smile.

“The entire Western animation industry is controlled by a single secret society,” Ian said, pouring every ounce of sincerity that he could into his voice. He locked eyes with the boy, trying to project absolute honesty with an unwavering gaze, not blinking until he saw the boy’s disbelieving smile slowly start to fade. “It’s true. A small circle of NuCalArts alumni control every aspect of the industry, from who is allowed to actually become an animator right down to who makes it into a community college computers course in Utah that has an animation component. They’d been watching me, and they were prepared to give me that holy grail of Western animation - my own show, to run as I saw fit. But first, I had to prove my worthiness.”

“You’re shitting me,” the boy said, but he didn’t sound certain. “What does this even have to do with you losing an eye, anyway?”

Ian looked down, letting his shoulders drop in obvious solemnity. “That has to do with the test I had to face to prove myself.”

“Wh- well, what kind of test would make you lose an eye, anyway?” the boy asked, with a sneer in his voice to show that he wasn’t taken in for a minute, and Ian fought to keep his face straight. He had this guy, he could play him like a fiddle!

“Any animator’s worst nightmare,” he intoned, looking back up at the boy. “I had to create a scene using flawless perspective shifts… _without any depth perception.”_

“So they put your  _eye_  out?” the boy said, incredulous, and Ian nodded gravely. The boy shook his head, sweeping his bangs back out of his face with one hand. “Shit.”

“But it was worth it,” Ian said, gesturing to the stand he and Mira had been examining. “Because now I can see my own characters half-naked and looking improbably ripped on fanmade body pillows! Seriously, Mira, make up your mind which one you want already.”

The boy glanced over at Mira, seeming to remember she was there for the first time, and saw her struggling to suppress giggles. His face turned dark with anger, and he turned without a word and stormed off, pushing a small child who ran into his path out of the way.

…

“Hey, I heard that guy was asking how you lost your eye. His reaction? Priceless. But, like, that’s not  _real,_ right?”

“Definitely not,” Ian said, wondering why this strange girl had decided it was appropriate to invade his peaceful lunch of overpriced pizza and also why Mira was already giggling. “The NuCalArts secret circle would never put someone’s eye out just for a test, they’d be paying billions for prostheses and everyone would catch on when all the showrunners had one artificial eye.”

The girl appeared to consider this for a moment. “Wait, so, like, the animation secret society is  _real?”_

Ian shrugged and bit off a mouthful of pizza.

The girl leaned both elbows against the slightly sticky, slightly greasy tabletop, peering carefully at Ian’s face like she was examining it for hidden messages. “Whoa. So, like, how  _did_  you lose that eye?”

Ian sighed to himself, swallowed, and put down his slice of pizza. “Bigfoot.”

The girl’s round eyes widened even further. “Seriously?  _The_  Bigfoot?”

“Yup. Went to ask the big guy for an autograph, he wasn’t expecting anyone to come up to him while he was just eating lunch at a restaurant with his girlfriend, he freaked out…boom. Right eye, gone. Sacrificed to a plastic spork.”

The girl’s mouth gaped slightly, like a stunned fish. Realisation swept across her features, and for a moment Ian thought he’d actually gotten through to her - before she said, “Wait, so, like, Bigfoot has a  _girlfriend_?”

It took everything Ian had not to immediately faceplant into his pizza.

…

“Okay, that story you told Drake was hilarious and all, but how’d you really lose your eye?”

Ian looked up from washing his hands to see another teenage boy leaning against the bathroom door, just visible over his shoulder in the mirror. He shot a long-suffering look at his own reflection before turning to face the stranger. “Sheep.”

The boy’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, but all he said was, “Sheep?”

“Sheep,” Ian repeated. “Can I get by here?”

The boy seemed to realise he was standing in the doorway. “Oh! Oh, yeah, man.”

…

@alcor-walcor twitted at 1:47 pm on June 11th, 3015: hearing lots of stories from #SGCC. @_IanBeale how DID u lose ur eye?

@_IanBeale twitted at 1:52 pm on June 11th, 3015: @alcor-walcor tragic knife juggling accident

…

“No, really. Genetically engineered land piranhas overran the Cartoon Cobweb offices.”

…

@_IanBeale twitted at 2:13 pm on June 11th, 3015: @MizarIsMagnificent618 rescuing a kitten from a tree went horrifyingly wrong

…

“And I was the only one there who could wield the fabled sword Excalibur. If only I knew the first thing about swords.”

…

@_IanBeale twitted at 2:32 pm on June 11th, 3015: @thisgirlisastar fire BAD

…

“Let me tell you, a snow globe museum is not a good place to hold a birthday party.”

…

@_IanBeale twitted at 3:01pm on June 11th, 3015: @alcorsbeeyotch sacred quest to recover my family’s ancestral eye-poking stick

…

“That was shortly before we discovered that all the lifeboats had been replaced with very large spiny blowfish.”

…

@_IanBeale twitted at 4:17 pm on June 11th, 3015: @melly_the_magnificent your parents will try to tell you ‘you’ll shoot your eye out!’. They’re right

…

“…and then the porcupine flew out of the holodeck and wrapped itself around my head. Swear on my mother’s grave.”

Mira tapped Ian on the elbow. “Your mother’s not dead.”

Ian turned to grin at her, in full view of the small circle that had gathered around him during the telling of this particular iteration of the story. “Who said she was, starshine?”

…

@_IanBeale twitted at 5:24 pm on June 11th, 3015: Okay guys, it’s been fun, but I will not be answering any more questions about my eye.

@_IanBeale twitted at 5:25 pm on June 11th, 3015: I will, however, be answering questions about who would win in a fight between historical figures. Go!

 

**Day Four**

The clock over the panel doors clicked over to 4:00, and the staff at the doors started to swing them shut. Ian looked out around the backdrop at the full conference room, and swallowed a little thrill of terror. 

“They’re all here because they want to see you,” he reminded himself quietly, watching as the last few stragglers took their seats. “They already like your stuff. They already like you. Just…go out there and give them more of the same. Simple.”

The rustling from the audience slowly died down, and Ian took a steadying breath before stepping out onto the stage.

The applause was instant and deafening. Ian stood still for a moment, trying not to look like he was grimacing, trying to remember, smile naturally, don’t blink too much, don’t flail your hands around too much, don’t blink too little…

He waited until the crowd quieted down again, raising both hands. “Hello, Santa Grenda ComicCon!”

There was another smattering of applause and one loud whistle. Ian didn’t have to think about the smile that crossed his face.

“Hey, it’s good to see you all! I’m so excited to be here - I think I’m almost as excited as some of you!” He paused for a moment to let the laughter settle, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher standing on the single table set up on the stage. “Now, I know you have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of answers! If you ask nicely, I might even share some of them! So this panel is going to be basically one big Q&A -”

“Demon-lover!”

Ian thought the glass was going to shatter in his hand. He turned, slowly, to face the side of the room the shout had come from and where a chorus of whispers was starting to rise. “Sorry?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” The woman who straightened up, standing and stepping out into the aisle, was white, middle-aged, unremarkable - except for the fact that she was screaming at the stage, her face twisted in fury. “You and your black magic filth! Poisoning our children’s minds, brainwashing them into consorting with paranormal trash -”

The two staffers who had been standing by the door, keeping it shut, hurried forward and each took one of the woman’s arms. She kicked out, thrashing around trying to get free as they pulled her back along the aisle towards the door. “Did you think no one would notice that your 'cartoon’ is filled with the symbols of very real demons? Did they promise you power? Influence? They lied! You’re nothing but a pawn in your dark masters’ games, you’re just a puppet -”

Ian set his glass down on the table with a clack. There was a shriek of feedback from his mic that had half the room covering their ears, and then silence.

“Wait a moment, please,” he said, and the staffers paused at the doors. The woman opened her mouth, probably to yell some more, but Ian raised one hand, palm out, and she fell silent.

“You’re wrong,” he said, and paused. The inside of his head felt like it was buzzing, everything narrowing down to himself and the woman and the pounding in his chest, but the words seemed to line up neatly on his tongue all the same. “But of course there’s no reason you would ever take my word for it, so I’m going to ask you this instead. You honestly, genuinely believe I’m working for some great, powerful, evil demon. You believe, with your whole heart, that I’m…using my show to recruit followers for this demon? Am I getting this right?”

The woman still looked furious, but it was tempered with confusion now. “We both know it’s true, you -”

“So you decided the best way to deal with this would be to confront me about it. In a public place. Okay, so far, so good. But you decided the best place to do this would be at a fan convention. In a panel I’m hosting about my show.” He paused for a moment, waiting, watching the woman’s face, watching for the spark that would mean she’d figured it out. “You decided to confront me about working for an immensely powerful demon by recruiting followers through my show, in a large room stuffed full of people who watch and love my show, with more people who watch and love my show waiting right outside in case there’s a chance they could get in." 

He waited a moment for this to settle in, and then flashed the woman his best, most charming grin. "A room with locked and guarded doors in the middle of a convention where no one will look twice if they hear a scream - if they can even hear it over the crowd.”

The woman hadn’t closed her mouth, but now, she didn’t look like she was about to yell anything. Her eyes were huge and her face had gone an interesting ashy sort of grey.

“Might want to think about the many flaws in your reasoning,” Ian said, and then turned away from her with a wave. “Thanks, you can kick her out now, please.” He grabbed the glass of water back up off the table and downed half of it, not looking up until he heard the doors slam shut. “All right! So who has questions?”

…

@tophatsofftoalcor twitted at 4:10 pm on June 12th, 3015: blood and fire check out this SMACKDOWN @_IanBeale just laid on this pro-nat trash #goals

@baels_thirdwife retwitted @tophatsofftoalcor at 4:13 pm on June 12th, 3015 and added: someone make a techno remix of this

…

Mira was waiting backstage when Ian stumbled down off the stage. “I saw,” she said, before he could start to explain. “Someone posted it already, it’s all over Twitting, don’t look at your mentions for a while.”

Ian collapsed into a chair beside her, feeling like all his bones had been turned to liquid. “She called me a puppet.”

Mira went unnaturally still, before the tiniest of small, tight smiles slowly crept across her face. She made a quick, sharp gesture with one hand, and her bat slammed into it, out of thin air.

“Don’t,” Ian said, unnecessarily, he hoped. “We don’t need to get kicked out of the con.”

“Who said I was going to cause the kind of trouble the con would ever know about?" 

Despite the way his hands were still shaking, Ian couldn’t help a grin. “No, lasting physical damage is always too risky. Especially when you have such a clear motive.” He let his head flop backwards over the back of the chair, shutting his eyes. The right was starting to ache, dull but deep, the prosthetic feeling overlarge and misaligned. “I just want to go back to the hotel room.”

"We can do that,” Mira said, and Ian felt her fingers twine gently between his, stopping their shaking with soft, warm pressure. “Come on, babe. You did it. You survived the panel. You can go back upstairs and pass out until we have to hit the airport.”

Ian managed a weak smile, though he didn’t open his eyes.

“We can order room service,” Mira went on, her voice taking on a sing-song quality as she pulled gently on Ian’s hands, trying to lever him out of his chair. “We can lock the door and order everything on the menu that looks interesting and eat it all in our pyjamas…”

“Hmmmm,” Ian agreed, letting Mira swing his hands back and forth. 

“We can order a bottle of champagne and celebrate your first invitation to speak at a major fan convention…” Mira leaned over, her breath hot against Ian’s neck as she whispered into his ear, “I could show you what I packed in that pink silk bag…”

“Hmmmm,” Ian agreed again, cracking an eye to look up at her. “Promise?”

 

**…**

@cizar-is-real asked @definitelymizar: what was the highlight of SGCC15 for you guys?

@definitelymizar answered: Tbh probably the Mizar the Magnificent body pillows. 


End file.
